


[Obscene Rapture]

by forkidcest



Series: temptations [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Begging, Coming In Pants, Dirk is still 16, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Manhandling, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-22 13:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forkidcest/pseuds/forkidcest
Summary: Dirk’s brother gives him what he wants.
Relationships: Dirk's Bro | Alpha Dave Strider/Dirk Strider
Series: temptations [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540057
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70
Collections: Sloppy Seconds 2019





	[Obscene Rapture]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BroSprite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroSprite/gifts).

> The feelings to porn ratio in my Drone Season fic was considerably higher than I expected or intended going in. This sequel is much, much smuttier.

Dirk has his own suite in your apartment, because what the fuck else are you going to do with the frankly ridiculous amounts of money your movies make, but he leaves the doors open a lot. You used to think it was because he was used to not having to guard his privacy, being alone in the apartment most of the time. Now you know it’s an invitation, that he wants to share his space with you.

You still feel a reflexive pang of guilt when you glimpse his naked back through two open doors, and you look away hurriedly, as if he might catch you staring and know. Then you look back, because he does know, and maybe he should hate you for it, but he doesn’t. He loves you, and he trusts you, and he wants you, too. He likes having your eyes on him. He’d like to have a lot more.

Entering his suite feels like crossing a line, but you do it. You stand in the doorway of his bathroom and gaze at the lines of his body, his shoulders and arms, the elegant curve of his back. He’s styling his hair, wearing pajama pants with cartoon horses on them, low on his hips, and nothing else. There’s a thrill in letting yourself admire him openly, now that you know how he feels, letting him see your appreciation—though he hasn’t seen you yet, face serious and intent on his reflection.

You come up behind him, cage him against the sink and kiss his bare shoulder, watching his face in the mirror. It still makes you kind of nervous to do things like this, anything that feels at all, well, predatory, and you feel the flicker of tension that runs through Dirk before he meets your reflected eyes. You leave your shades off around the house, now. You need him to always be able to tell that it’s you.

He goes up on his toes as he leans forward, pushing his ass back against you in blatant invitation. He’s a little shorter than you, still, but you’re barefoot too, and the move leaves his ass nestled perfectly in the cradle of your hips and your hardening dick pressed against him at a perfect angle for fucking, if you weren’t both wearing pants.

“God damn it,” Dirk breathes, “if I’d seen this coming I would’ve fingered myself in the shower, you could just—” he shudders, grinds his ass back against you. You can feel his thighs trembling from the effort of staying up on his toes. “You could just stick it in, Bro, you could—”

“That’s fucking hot,” you tell him, “but I think I’d rather get you ready myself,” and he groans.

“Please tell me you mean soon,” he says. “God, fuck, Bro, I just—look, I love the cuddling, okay, I love all the PG-13 kissing and snuggling. If that’s all we ever do I’ll be okay with it… really fucking frustrated and horny, but okay. I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything that’s gonna fuck you up, dude, I love you, but also I really, really, really want you to fuck me, like all the time, I’m basically going out of my mind here with how much I want your dick, so. Literally any time, if you feel ready to act on that, I’m on board to beg for it, okay?”

You love this kid so much. He wants you so bad, he’s trembling against you, and still worrying about your state of mind, still trying to reassure you…

“Soon,” you tell him, breathing the word against his skin, soft and hot. “Soon, Dirk, I promise. I want to take my time with you, want to give you everything you want. Want you to tell me about it, love hearing you…” You kiss his neck and grind against his ass and smooth your hand over his abs, slide it down past his waistband and wrap it around his dick, and he dissolves into desperate babbling as you jerk him off.

Dirk’s less cautious, after that, less hesitant to share his fantasies. He starts dropping them casually into conversation, even—“Just saying, it would be a damn shame if you missed out on the opportunity to pick me up and fuck me against a wall while I’m still shorter than you. I think I feel another growth spurt coming on, you should go for it while you have the chance”—acting like it’s no big thing, though the faint blush rising over his cheekbones betrays him every time.

So after a few days of increasingly provocative banter and growing sexual tension, you’re finally acting on the desires you tried so hard to repress. You’ve got your kid brother laid out under you on the futon, pinned down by your hands on his forearms, your knee between his thighs. The first and last time you held him down like this, you weren’t the one steering, couldn’t control your wandering hands or your goddamn filthy mouth, and Dirk was tense and frozen—horrified, you thought at the time, horrified yourself at what you were doing to him, what you were saying.

It’s different, this time.

The first time he tried to pull away, you let him go, and he rolled his eyes at you. “Really, Bro?” he said. “I thought ‘I like it when you hold me down’ was pretty straightforward, but I can explain it in excruciating detail if it’s really necessary. Can’t really use smaller words, but I could draw you some diagrams, maybe make a powerpoint—”

You caught his arms again, and kissed him, and didn’t release him when he tugged against your hold, didn’t let him move, just felt the flex and pull of his muscles under your hands and watched him.

Dirk isn’t a super demonstrative kid, most of the time. He’s not big on emoting. But god, right now his pleasure is written all over him, in the flush high on his cheeks and his half-lidded eyes and the way he’s biting his lip. He’s desperately, transparently aroused, and you’re not even doing anything to him, not really—you’ve got your hands on him, yes, your grip firm on his forearms, but aside from that you’re hardly touching him. You’re kneeling up over him, and you’ve got a knee between his thighs, but you’re both fully clothed, and you’re not putting pressure on his dick or anything.

That’s all him.

He’s rolling his hips, squirming and moaning unashamedly as he ruts up against your thigh. He’s flushed and panting, so hot, and so eager for you—

You squeeze his arms harder, just for a moment, and he keens.

“God, Dirk,” you say, “you’re so hot, I love seeing you like this, you’re fucking gorgeous—”

“Fuck,” he gasps, “Oh fuck, Bro, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” you say, and you lean in close so you can get your mouth on his warm skin, kiss at all the parts of him you can reach, his neck and his ear and his jaw—everything but his mouth. You want to, you ache to kiss him deeply, feel his eager lips and tongue, but you don’t want to muffle the incredible noises he’s making, and you still can’t shake the fear that you might cross a line or go too far if he can’t speak to stop you.

“Yeah,” he whines, and his body rises in a taut shuddering arch against you. He’s coming in his jeans, just from that, just from rubbing up on your leg while you pinned him to the futon, _god_.

He collapses against the cushions, gasping. He looks amazing, flushed and mussed and gorgeous—

“You should fuck me,” he says, breathless. “Just, right now, Bro, I’m all relaxed, you could get me ready so easy, I can go again, I wanna come on your cock—”

“_Jesus_,” you say, not even intentionally, your mouth just says words sometimes when your mind is otherwise occupied, it’s a thing. Holy fuck, he’s so hot.

“Sorry,” he says, suddenly sheepish. “No fucking filter, I’m trying not to, to do that, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”

“Shit, Dirk, I want to,” you tell him, “I wanna fuck you so bad—” It’s what you said before, when the demon was in you, but you feel out of control in a different way, this time. You could stop if you wanted to. If Dirk wanted you to.

“Fuck yes,” he gasps. “Lemme up, Bro, I gotta—”

Your hands collide between your bodies as you reach for each other’s flies. Dirk gropes at your cock through your pants and you both moan. Your fingers are clumsy as you push the hem of his shirt out of the way and fumble with the button on his jeans. He’s quicker at getting yours undone and pushed off your hips, and you shudder as he takes hold of your dick. You kind of can’t believe how close you are already.

“New plan,” Dirk says, rushed and heated. “I need this in my mouth right the fuck now, Bro, I—I’ll suck you off, okay, then when you get it up again you can fuck me, you’ll last longer, you can take your time with me, it’ll be so good—” he grips your hip with his free hand and tugs, urging you to crawl up the length of the futon, and you go.

“You can pull my hair,” he says hopefully, once your cock is bobbing in his face. “I mean, if you want to, I—I’d like it,” and he goes down without waiting for a response.

He’s not at the best angle for sucking dick but he goes for it with incredible enthusiasm, moaning and whining around the solid weight of your cock in his mouth, leaning in and swallowing you down as far as he can until he gags, and even then he resists when you pull back. “Fuck,” you gasp, “Dirk, don’t—don’t choke—oh god.” He hums, sounding pleased, lips sealed tight around the head of your dick, and you pet his hair and thumb away the tears at the corners of his eyes and try to resist the urge to thrust into his throat.

It’s a heroic effort, but ultimately futile. Dirk leans in again, more carefully this time, takes you deep without gagging and then draws back slowly, pauses with the tip resting against his slick lower lip, and his fingers flex on your hips, slide down to squeeze your ass and pull you toward him, and you don’t have the will to resist when he’s urging you to move.

You keep it to a gentle, steady rhythm, no rough thrusting into his throat, just an easy rocking of your hips. You watch Dirk’s face, his half-lidded eyes, marveling at how utterly blissed out he looks with your dick sliding between his kiss-swollen lips. “God, you love this, don’t you?” You’re babbling again. “Yeah, you love it, you’re so good, Dirk, you look so good, you feel amazing, yeah, just like that—”

He looks like there’s nothing he enjoys more than sucking your dick, and he feels like it too, tongue working against your shaft, inaudible sounds of pleasure vibrating into your skin. You thread your fingers into his gelled hair and tug, lightly at first, then a little harder when it makes him groan around you.

Under the circumstances, it’s hardly surprising that you don’t last very long.

Dirk looks extremely pleased with himself after you’ve come down his throat. You slump on the futon and play with his hair while you wait for your heart rate to settle, and when you’re 95% sure your legs will work properly you roll off of him, hitch your pants up enough to walk without tripping over them, and pick him up.

“Whoa,” Dirk says, and your steps almost falter, but it’s not an objection. If the arm he slings around your neck wasn’t reassurance enough, the look on his face as you carry him into the master bedroom would lay any remaining doubts to rest. He’s all eager excitement, and he’s made it very clear that he likes a little manhandling—more than a little, really, more than you’re comfortable giving him just yet. He’d probably love it if you threw him down on the bed and tore his clothes off, but you can’t bring yourself to be quite that rough with him. You compromise by dropping him instead of laying him down gently, and you don’t quite rip his jeans off, but you make short work of them.

He’s hard again already, his slender dick standing up flushed and pretty, sticky with jizz, and you’re so eager to return the favor that you forget to grab your lube before going down on him. “Bro, oh my god,” he says, and he keeps saying it, “god, Bro, oh my god, please,” voice cracking when you pull off after a slow hard suck and leave him gasping while you take off your shirt and rifle through the drawer in your bedside table.

You find your good lube and make sure he can see you slicking up the fingers of your right hand before you wipe your left off on the bedspread and tuck it into the crook of his knee. You push his leg up nearly to his heaving chest and bend to kiss the back of his thigh as you circle his hole with a wet fingertip. He’s trembling under your lips, still and silent in the way you now know means he’s entirely focused on sensation, on anticipation.

It doesn’t take you long to get him squirming on two of your fingers, writhing and moaning and begging incoherently for you to fuck him. He only stops you once, and only long enough to make sure you’re not planning to stop if he comes. “Only if you want me to,” you tell him, breathing the words over the wet head of his cock, and he moans long and loud. It takes hardly more than another minute of screwing your fingers against his prostate before he’s crying out and coming in your mouth.

As soon as he can speak again, he’s begging you to keep going.

It’s easy to get a third finger inside him, then, and you take your time massaging and stretching him open. You love how deliciously responsive he is, his usual poker face shattered by pleasure, and you tell him that, you tell him how lovely he looks sprawled naked in your bed, all flushed and shuddering with the sensation of your fingers working in his ass and the anticipation of what he’ll be getting next. Soon, you tell him when he begs for it. Soon.

“I’m ready,” he gasps, groans, pleads, “Bro, please, I’m so ready, god, Bro, fuck me, please—”

You’re ready too, now, fully recovered from your earlier orgasm, and difficult as it is to take your hands off Dirk, it’s a necessary prelude to getting your cock inside him. You twist and spread your fingers as you pull them out, making him whine, and grab the lube, slick yourself up slow and thorough for his eager gaze, and then you kneel over him on the bed, kiss him hard, line yourself up, and push in.

Jesus, he’s so tight.

You turn your head and kiss his knobby ankle, trying to focus on the pressure of his calf against your shoulder instead of the tight clench of his hole around the head of your dick. Even after all the time you spent fingering him, it feels like you must be hurting him, forcing your way inside him like this, but when you look back at his face there isn’t a trace of pain there. He looks euphoric, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, like your cock sinking into him is an unparalleled religious experience.

That gives you the confidence to keep going, slow and steady until you’re buried balls-deep in your little brother’s ass.

“Oh my god, Bro,” he breathes. You’re both trembling, you with the effort of holding yourself still—got to let him adjust, make sure he can take it—and him, well, you think it’s overwhelming pleasure that’s making him shiver. You hope it is.

“You good, Dirk?”

“So good,” he gasps, “you feel so good, Bro, I love you, I love your cock, I—_oh!”_ His eyes roll back as you swivel your hips, grinding into him. “Yessss,” he hisses, “fuck me, Bro, fuck me—”

You bend to kiss him, nearly folding him in half, and he squirms under you, moaning into your mouth, hot and desperate, louder when you rock your hips in a gentle thrust, and you know you’re not going to keep it soft and careful, like you did when you were fucking his mouth. You draw back farther, drive back in harder, and he urges you on with eager sounds until you’re slamming into him so hard he’s sliding up the bed with each rough thrust. You grab his shoulders for better leverage, then run your hands down his arms and grip his biceps, lean more of your weight on him to keep him pinned in place as you keep pumping your hips, pounding into his ass.

Dirk writhes under you, tugs at your hold on his arms and groans when he can’t shift you. He likes it, you remind yourself, he loves it, and he feels amazing, looks amazing, sounds amazing. With your arms under his knees, keeping his legs pushed up and splayed open, he can’t move much—all he can do is squirm and moan and take what you give him, and you give it to him as hard as you can.

As hard as you can in this position, anyway.You pull out and flip him over, get him on his knees and elbows, and tease his hole with the head of your dick just to hear him beg before driving it back into him.

“_Fuck_,” he shouts when you do, almost a scream, almost a sob, “fuck, yes, Bro, just like—ohhh _god_, fuck me—”

You lean over him and plant a hand between his shoulder blades, push him down until his chest is pressed to the mattress and then run your hand along the beautiful curve of his spine to his ass, squeeze and spread his cheeks and watch the length of your cock sliding in and out of him. This is an easier position to maintain, and you’re in this for the long haul; Dirk said he wanted to come on your cock and you’re determined to last until he does.

After just a few more minutes, though, you feel like you’re getting close yourself, so you pause your thrusting when you’re buried as deep in him as you can get and reach down to get your hand around his cock. It’s hot and solid and smooth in your palm, and you thumb over the wet tip of it and circle your hips to grind against his prostate until he’s shaking under you.

His hands are clutching the sheets, white-knuckled, and his head is turned to the side so you can see his face in profile, flushed cheek and bitten lips. God, he’s gorgeous, and you’re spilling over with thoughtless praise, telling him breathlessly how good he feels, how beautiful he is, how much you love him. He whines and moans and pushes back against you and he must be on the edge now, he has to be—

“Dirk,” you gasp, “you ready to come for me, Dirk?”

“Please,” he whimpers, and he keeps going as you find your rhythm, a desperate litany of “god, fuck, yes, please” punctuated by the slap of skin on skin as you fuck him hard and fast until he screams out “_Bro!”_ and spills in your hand, clenching so tight as he does that your own orgasm breaks over you in a crashing wave.


End file.
